Falling Into Darkness
by Worldshifter Fanfiction
Summary: Sequel to Out of This World, posted originally under Lady Dawson's page. Emily and Joni have left their world behind and began a life in Star Trek. But threats from within Starfleet have placed them on separate paths. Will Joni figure out where she belongs? And will Emily follow her own heart? Jim Kirk/Emily.
1. Torn Loyalties

**Falling Into Darkness**

By Lady Dawson and EssentiallyRei

Chapter One: Torn Loyalties

"_The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."_

"_Or the one."_

* * *

**Stardate 2259.40  
Planet Qo'noS**

The room was bathed with red light as most Klingon rooms are. Joni sat childlike atop a counter artlessly tossing a depleted power cell up and down with her real, skin-and-bone right hand, as she watched the man across the room working on the circuitry behind an open wall panel. Over the past few weeks, and with her help, the man had been turning the abandoned and half-destroyed Klingon dwelling they had been using as a hideaway into what could now only be defined as a lair.

Joni was ruminating about fate and how much she did not believe in it, especially nowadays, as she watched the man work. It was like watching a machine. He never second guessed what he was doing, or paused to take a breather. His work was linear and he would not rest until he accomplished the task of getting the main power on. They had depleted their supply of power cells several days before, but after he and Joni designed a make-shift dampening field with the junk lying around to hide any major power signatures from the Klingon patrols that frequented the area, using an old generator left behind in the rubble of the Ketha Province did not seem like a bad idea.

Unlike Starfleet dwellings, which were mostly white and spotless, Klingons were not afraid of dirt and grease and still used it along with their tech. Joni and the man were both covered in black grease and grime: Joni from working on installing the actual generator, and the man from working on everything else. To this point, the man had managed to get the lights working; he was now working on other computer systems. Joni had nothing better to do than watch her consistent partner in crime work under the antagonizing red light that Klingons loved so much.

The six foot tall man, making him half a foot taller than Joni, had the brightest blue eyes Marcus could give him when the Admiral reconstructed the man's entire appearance. Not once did those blue eyes look to Joni. The man, who was well aware that Joni was watching him, ignored her, so used to her ruminating. He ruminated too, but only when he thought Joni wasn't watching; she had caught the beast gazing up at the stars a couple of times. Joni did not know what to make of it, because a beast he was—dominant and deadly. Seeing him contemplative made her stop and wonder too much about loyalty. Particularly where her loyalty was supposed to be placed.

For some reason, it was easier to allow herself to like the man before her when she knew he stopped to think and wonder once in a while, like a normal human being.

Because she did not trust the man in front of her. Or, at least, she did not want to trust him, regardless of how much she cared to admit that she actually did. Joni had to keep in mind that he was a villain. And it was something that was constantly on her mind; otherwise she would easily forget that she _should not_ trust him. She got along all too well with the villainous, deadly, and dominant man she found herself fascinated by and more often watching than sleeping.

These days her thoughts were constantly in a jumble about right and wrong, logic or feeling, and abandonment and loyalty. But that was okay, because she had a contingency plan if she made the wrong choices. Yet, she promised herself it was one that she could only use as a very last resort, because it would demand blood—her blood.

Feeling un-Vulcan and empowered, she set the empty power cell down, and walked up to the open panel. Joni now stood next to the man with her best intimidation stance, which was much better than it had been a year ago thanks to the very person she was using it on. He had taught her to defend herself and not fall prey to men like Admiral Marcus.

She was willing to test it on her teacher now. Time was running out, not to.

The stance put her left foot and left shoulder in front so that her cybernetic arm was as a shield to the rest of her body—for good reason, too, because there actually was a specially designed shield installed in the arm that Joni could switch on by clinching her cybernetic hand into a fist. She wasn't going to need it switched on now, she hoped, but she was ready.

"I cannot let you blow-up the Kelvin Memorial Archive," she boldly confronted the man. It was not her first time discussing his vengeful intentions and plans against Starfleet with him. This, however, was the first time she was desperate enough to be threatening towards him about it. Those icy blue eyes now turned to look at her.

He was unreadable, but Joni had been wrong in that he took her statement quite seriously, putting down his sonic tool before giving her his full attention. He carefully watched her as she stared struggling not to falter her own gaze. Since the man was all about dominance, Joni was trying to establish her dominance in that moment. It was the only way if she wanted results.

To defend himself, the man chose patience as his weapon.

It felt like minutes staring into the cold eyes of the man—Joni started getting flashes of her nightmares, of staring into the singularity of a black hole. It forced her to abdicate her stance. She simply could not stare at him anymore, having to close her eyes and turn away. She lost the small battle for supremacy. "Cut the bullshit, John, and say something," she broke the aggressive silence.

"When there's no need?" he replied with casualness. "Come now, Joan. We both know you were not going to win."

"I need to win," Joni emphasized. "And don't call me Joan."

"Do not call me John," he said darkly, "You are not going to fight me, Joan. You will not win. You know that, which is precisely why you will not fight me."

Joni believed him. He was right. She wasn't going to win. _Yet_.

"I'm not afraid of you, Khan," she stated depressingly.

"Yes," he agreed. "You are only afraid of what I might do to your precious Enterprise and her crew. You've said it yourself: you only went along with me to get away from Section 31. And eventually meet up with your so called friends on the Enterprise. If you don't want to be involved with my tactics beforehand, then leave. I am not keeping you here, Joan. You can leave whenever you want."

Joni stared at the floor, conflicted. Khan knew about the Enterprise because she had told him. She had told him everything. Even about how she was from another universe and had been dropped into this one as Spock's sister almost a year ago. Khan knew everything about her.

It seemed only fair to tell him everything when she knew almost everything about him, before he even knew himself—when he was only John Harrison, agent of Section 31. Before he remembered he was really Khan Noonien Singh. Admiral Marcus had done a number on Khan—completely rewriting Khan's identity and memory.

For that matter, Admiral Marcus had done a number on Joni as well—forcing her to create weapons of mass destruction for Section 31. All because she had seen a program analyzing the Red Matter on the Narada, making her the number one expert on Red Matter in the Federation, in the Admiral's eyes.

"I will add…" Khan aired with amusement. "A part of the reason you stay is because you know you are safe under my guidance."

"Fascinating choice of words," Joni fell back into her Vulcan tone. She would do that when she was anxious. It was a conundrum because Vulcan's were not supposed to be nervous beings. She validated it to herself by believing it was her instinctual way to feel calm and secure. Similar to the nervous habit of biting one's nails. "You observably don't need me, Khan, so why do you let me hang around?" Joni was afraid of the answer.

"You are asking a question to which you already have the answer to," he said as he replaced the sonic tool and began working again. He was getting bored with their conversation.

"I'm not a tool. Or your soldier, Khan," Joni enforced with her Vulcan tone. "I'm not going to fall in line and do your bidding, if that is what you expect the outcome of our cooperation with one another to be."

His cold and focused eyes weakened for a moment as he paused what he was doing, before he looked back at Joni with something of sadness. "I know savagery. I know war. But a good leader also has to understand peace. There has to be a balance somewhere, or there would only be disorder. Think of yourself as that balance. The exception to the rule."

He focused on his work again, and Joni knew he was going to ignore further interaction from her. So she left him and Klingon room, and made her way outside. She leaned against a large piece of rubble and tried to gather her thoughts.

"I don't want to be the exception to his rule," Joni said aloud and to herself. "If he… "

…_wasn't as fascinated by me as I am with him, then it would be easier to hate him._ _It would be easier to stop him from what he's about to do. _She leaned her head back so it hit the rubble.

_Look at me, Spock_. She said it like he was there sharing her thoughts as he was a year ago. She had not shared her thoughts with Spock since she had been reassigned to Section 31, and it left a constant emptiness in her mind. Being so far away cut the telepathic link. The last few days with him, it was true that she had been blocking him out, but his presence had still been there.

Now, so far away from him, the Enterprise, and even the Federation, Spock's mental presence was simply gone. To fill the emptiness it left, she sometimes pretended Spock was still there.

_Look at me. You must think I'm weak to give in to Khan's influence so easily._

Then Joni would try to think up some logical response to take Spock's absence, but more often nothing made sense and she could not find the logic he had stabilized her with months before.

She was losing it—her mind. And it was only going to get worse, because she was not going to stop Khan. She was going to go to Earth with him and allow him to blow up the Kelvin Memorial Archive in order to prevent Admiral Marcus from manufacturing more weapons.

Khan was right to choose the Archive, which was a secret Section 31 facility, as his target. Joni's undeveloped design for Red Matter torpedoes was being held there. That definitely had to be destroyed along with all the other designs for weapons of mass destruction Admiral Marcus was holding on to.

But what about all the innocent life that was going to be lost?

It was a burden Joni was going to have to bear. Again. Just like all the lives of Vulcan, or those that faced the Narada just before Vulcan. She had known then, too, that so many lives were going to be lost. And what had she done about it? Almost nothing in comparison to the number of lives lost. There had been no way to save everyone.

So instead, Joni had chosen favorites. Like Gaila. Like Amanda. And she saved the two. Two lives out of billions. And why? Joni had put a lot of thought into it the past few months, and she had come to realize that she did not save their lives to be selfless. She had saved their lives to ease her own guilty conscious; to ease the pain of losing everything else.

It was all so… illogical. Yet that was the funny thing about logic. Logic never pointed to one direction or another unless there was a rule behind it.

Another way of looking at it, and as the great Captain Janeway once said: "You can use logic to justify anything. That's its power, and its flaw." Janeway was not Joni's favorite Star Trek captain, but the woman came close. Captain Janeway had a realistic head on her shoulders. She understood that sometimes it took a dark and drastic decision to press forward. (She was allowed to do that when she was 70,000 lightyears from the Alpha Quadrant and Starfleet.)

Joni also had a great admiration for the actress Kate Mulgrew who played Captain Janeway. The actress not only played her role as Janeway brilliantly, but she was also the voice actress for one of Joni's favorite characters in one of Joni's all-time favorite video games. In Dragon Age Origins, Mulgrew voiced Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds and mother of the character Morrigan. (Both characters considered "villain" types.)

Maybe that was a part of the problem. In everything Joni had ever watched, played, read, and even wrote, Joni always ended up admiring and sometimes rooting for the villain. She knew what they did as an individual—stealing, destroying, and murdering—was wrong. Yet Joni was fascinated at their resolve to do such things. Joni always felt that resolve was something she, herself, had lacked.

For instance: Joni couldn't decide whose side she was on.

All that crap she had said to Kirk a year ago about why he had her loyalty was all for naught. At the time she said it, Joni believed Kirk would be her Captain. She would get to see him become a legendary hero, someone everyone would look up to. She had been convinced that she was put into the Star Trek Universe for the reason of serving aboard the Enterprise to support Captain Kirk. The Enterprise and her crew would be her family; and she would share the experience with her brother Spock and her new best friend Emily.

It was taken away from her. Joni's new family had been taken away from her before it even had a chance to truly adopt her. Taken away by Admiral Marcus.

Joni hated—absolutely hated—admitting it to herself, but she and Khan had a lot in common, circumstantially. They both wanted their "_families_" back.

Which lead into another part of the problem. Joni did not know if the Enterprise would want _her_ back. It did not matter if she went with Khan, or stayed behind when he blew up the Kelvin Memorial Archive; afterward, Joni would be deemed a fugitive and traitor to Starfleet. More still, after what she had seen and heard while working for Section 31, Joni did not know if she could see herself as a Starfleet member again.

At least, definitely not while Admiral Marcus was in charge. He had become the one villain that Joni could never sympathize with. It was personal.

_No matter how good he was as RoboCop_, Joni thought as she frowned.

Somewhat caught off guard, from the corner of her eye Joni realized she was being watched. She pushed herself off the rubble and acknowledged the intruder standing behind a different piece of rubble and peeking around it to watch Joni. Upon realizing who it was, Joni crouched to her knees and silently motioned the little Klingon girl to come towards her. As the little girl quickly ran to Joni's side, Joni said in Klingon: _qatlh ghoS Su naDev jaj wov, Ch'palla_. Which roughly translated to, "Why did you come here in the light of day, Ch'Palla?"

The girl was perhaps of five or six years. In comparison to other Klingons, the ridges on her forehead were smooth and less prominent. There was a reason for this, and it was not because she was young or just because the Klingons appeared different in the alternate timeline than they did in the original timeline. It was because the Klingon girl had been genetically altered by a Klingon disease; one that Section 31 experimentally released upon the Ketha Province after stealing it from quarantine from the moon base on Praxis—before Praxis was blown up.

Ch'Palla replied to Joni's question in Klingon with, "The next patrol is in three hours. I counted the time as you taught me."

"Very good," Joni acknowledged. "But did I not also tell you it is dangerous when _He_ is here."

"I am not afraid of the augment as you are. I am a _SuvwI'_," Ch'Palla said displaying her broken teeth in a grin.

"You are a little warrior," Joni agreed. "What makes you think I am afraid of Khan?" she asked as she started examining the girl as a doctor would, checking for signs of sickness. Ch'Palla only would have risked coming to Joni during daylight if there was something she needed. The girl was a Klingon, but she was shrewd and wary of outsiders—alien and other Klingons. She had been living and surviving alone in the Ketha Province ever since her family died from the disease that had also taken a hold of her.

To Joni's understanding, Ch'Palla's mother and father had been farmers. They had also not been members of any of the Great Houses that made up the Klingon Empire. Meaning Ch'Palla was now an orphan in more ways than one. If one day, Ch'Palla could prove herself worthy and with honor, then a Great House could very well adopt her.

That was, if Ch'Palla survived the disease; and so far, she was. Perhaps it was because she was young and still growing, and she could better adapt to the alterations the disease was making to her genetic make-up. Joni didn't really know; she wasn't a doctor, she was an engineer.

"You allow the augment to treat you as _QIv_."

Joni tried to piece together what _QIv_ meant. It was a Klingon word she was unfamiliar with.

It had been Ch'Palla that taught Joni to speak Klingon, so the girl put it together for the Vulcan. "_be'vam QaQqu'vaD. Hom. puj_," she listed some synonyms. "You allow the augment to think you are weak, because you fear him."

Ch'Palla was not wrong, but she was not right. Joni did not purposefully allow Khan to think her weak. She was weak, physically and mentally, against the augment. There was no doubt that Khan was… superior. However, she did not fear this fact. She accepted it. What Joni feared was why Khan, knowing Joni was inferior, allowed her to freely confront him and live to tell about it. His explanation that she is _"the exception to the rule"_ was not satisfactory.

"Or he is your _Par'Mach'kai_," Ch'Palla suggested as she crossed her arms, looking amused. Joni would never tell Ch'Palla how adorable it was to have a little Klingon girl act high and mighty toward her.

Ch'Palla probably thought she was being smart using a term that she believed Joni wouldn't know, but _Par'Mach'kai_ was a term that Joni was indeed familiar with. It was a term she specifically recalled because of watching Deep Space 9 (the entire series more than once). Jadzia Dax had been Worf's _Par'Mach'kai_—his lover—until they were engaged and eventually married.

"_teHbe'_," Joni replied, which meant: _it is not true_. She finished up her examination of Ch'Palla by straightening the girl's metal collar that was holding together the rest of her tattered clothes. "Khan is honorless," Joni put in a way she believed Ch'Palla would understand. "I will not be the _Par'Mach'kai_ of a man who lacks honor."

"So it is fear that keeps you by his side," Ch'Palla expertly recognized. "Are all Vulcans as cowardly as you? I was told they are smarter than that."

Joni almost laughed; of all people she was being antagonized by a Klingon child. "No, not all Vulcans are cowards. Remember, I am only half-Vulcan. It is the human side of me that fears."

"So humans are cowards," Ch'Palla openly pointed out.

This time Joni did giggle before she smiled at the girl. "Humans are certainly not as brave in comparison to you. I think you may even be braver than your own species, Ch'Palla." Joni meant it. Ch'Palla was unknowingly becoming stronger than the average adult Klingon—the disease was changing her into a Klingon augment.

Joni was observing that for some reason—whether human or Klingon—augments had a natural sense of superiority of themselves. It was a theory Joni wished she could test, but it would require interaction with more augments, which was never going to happen. Bias or not, the risk factor for death in an environment full of augments was higher for Joni. Especially if they knew her secret.

"Now why have you come, little warrior? I needn't provide you with medical attention; you seem to be in good health."

"I was bored," she answered with a scowl. "And I want to know if you are leaving with the augment when he soon leaves for the human homeworld."

Joni stood so she was no longer at the same height as Ch'Palla. She looked down on the child like a disapproving adult. "Where did you hear about this?"

The little girl did not answer and peeked around Joni, before scurrying away like a mouse in the kitchen spotting a cat coming around the corner.

Khan appeared next to Joni.

"You scared her away," Joni quipped in English and without looking at him as she watched Ch'Palla run out of sight.

"I have that effect on children," he wittily replied as he, too, watched the direction Ch'Palla went.

When he had been just John Harrison, Khan had joked with Joni all the time. When his real memories eventually returned to him, the witty jokes became cynical and dangerous to respond to. That was, until, Joni came out with the truth as to how she knew he was Khan all along. It had been an extremely dangerous predicament beforehand.

"You have that effect on people in general," Joni jestingly countered as she glimpsed at the man.

He returned a smirk, but moved on in conversation. "Power has been restored to the central computer, but regardless of our dampening field we should not keep the structure fully operational." Joni appropriately nodded before Khan added, "I did leave what appears to be some sort of Klingon showering system active. I assume you would like to make the most of it first?"

"A Klingon showering system," Joni mused. "What does it operate on? Is it sonic?" Khan shook his head. "Surely it doesn't use running water?"

He shook his head again and explained, "It appears similar to a sauna. The heated stall is filled with a recycled nontoxic-disinfectant water-vapor. It won't do much in terms of sweat and smell—"

Joni groaned and expressed, "Everything with Klingons is the color red, or the extremes of hot, cold, dry, or wet." She put her head in her hand. "I don't care if running water is wasteful… What I would not do for an old-fashioned bath."

She looked up to see Khan smiling at her, almost laughing. His blue eyes twinkling. "Luxuries of our time," he slowly stressed, bringing attention to the detail that the real Joni was from the 21st century. "I can put together a sonic shower," he then warmly offered. "It will not have running water, but it won't make you feel like a Klingon either."

"That is agreeable," Joni answered as she turned away, finding herself smiling. She would not look Khan in the eye when she smiled, because she believed it was weakness. Genuine happiness in his presence—happiness provoked by Khan, the villain—was a weakness. And a mistake.

Khan began heading back into their hideaway, but Joni called after him with, "John." Only after did she realize she had called him John again. It had become natural to call him John at the Io Facility while she had to pretend she did not know who he really was. In a way, Joni considered John to be the part of Khan that was good—the part that could make her smile.

He silently acknowledged her by stopping and returning a dead stare. He really did hate being called John. It was a reminder of what Admiral Marcus did to him; and that the Admiral still had Khan's crew in frozen captivity.

"You went to visit Ch'Palla, didn't you?" Joni was not abated in asking by the stare. She then paused before stating, "She's not sick anymore. You… helped her."

"She will live now," Khan imparted with his characteristic resolve.

Joni wanted to ask why, in that moment. Why did he save Ch'Palla? Khan felt no kinship to Klingons. He had already killed hundreds, if not thousands, when he went on a solo mission to blow up Praxis for Admiral Marcus.

She wanted to ask why, but she did not. For the moment she would hold the question back. "Thank you," is the only thing she replied with.

* * *

_**Personal Log: Joan Bennett  
Stardate 2259.41**_

_I know not what to share in this log entry. Only that I must. That it is vital for whomever it concerns to know my state of mind leading to the events that will take place in fourteen Earth days._

_Precisely one year (Earth Time) I have been in the Star Trek Universe. It is remarkable how drastically one year can change one's life. If I could have looked forward one year ago and saw myself as I am now, I would not have believed I was looking at myself. The change is too drastic and all of it happened so fast._

_I do not know who I am anymore. Maybe I never knew, because I so easily fall into any role depending what role is handed to me. Human. Vulcan. Starfleet Officer. And now a renegade. (Hell, I can at least remember enough about my old self to know that I loved to role-play.)_

_If one year ago I had been told that I would be hiding from Starfleet on Qo'noS with Khan, I would have broken all conduct of a Vulcan to laugh until tears streamed my eyes, and then perhaps I would have called the person who foreshadowed such a future an idiot. Thus, I would now owe an apology._

_It is too bad such a person does not exist; otherwise, after apologizing, I could now ask this person what I could do to prevent the soon upcoming events altogether. How do I stop Khan?_

—_PAUSED_

* * *

Joni, sitting at a cluttered hunk-of-metal table, was balancing the chair on two legs as she had her booted feet propped up onto the table, when Khan pulled up the one other chair to her left facing it out from the table. He took a seat so that he could cross his arms over the backing of the chair, lean forward, and rest his chin on his hands.

Immediately Joni stopped what she was doing, which was tapping away at her PADD, and put the PADD to sleep.

"Remember when I pronounced you a pretender?" Khan asked, staring at Joni with levity.

"Yes," Joni answered in seriousness, putting all four legs of the chair back on the floor, taking her feet off the table, and sitting upright. If Khan was going to reference past conversations from when they were working at the Io Facility, Joni was going to need to pay attention.

"Whenever you are writing, you do not pretend. You are you."

Joni's brow went up. Now she had no clue what Khan was talking about.

"Your mannerisms," he elaborated a little more. "Whenever you are writing, you do not pretend to be someone or something you are not."

"Writing has always been my primary comfort zone," Joni replied as if it was the obvious answer.

"You feel the most in control when you are writing," Khan rephrased Joni's reply.

"One _could_ put it in those terms," she said, blinking but continuing to stare at him as a dispassionate Vulcan. She was pretending that she did not care what he was doing, because she knew it was some form of manipulation.

On cue, he smiled. It was most definitely a smile that suggested Khan was up to something. "Do you write more than log entries?"

Joni had speculated that Khan had known about her log entries, but she had wanted to believe that she did not have to worry about privacy around him and go on writing them. "I do… I used to. When I was living as Joni Bennett, in my 21st century, I wrote stories. Mostly science-fiction," she finalized, wanting to allude to the irony.

"Writing fiction? That entails creating characters, then controlling their actions and choosing their destinies."

_So that's what he's getting at_, Joni was starting to see where the conversation was going. Khan was attempting to get Joni to see that she was "like him". That she saw herself superior. That she wanted to control and rule over everyone and everything around her.

Adding her PADD to the junk on the table, she then immediately criticized Khan with, "I don't write because I want control of everyone's lives."

"You write because you feel a lack of control in your own life," he presented in return.

She grimaced, slightly. "Possibly," she said in spite. He was right and she was not happy about it.

Now smiling like he had accomplished something of great importance, he got up and went to tend to his newest project. He was making some new war-toy. It was always war tactics, programming, and engineering with Khan when it wasn't showing off his superiority.

Grumbling, Joni snatched her PADD back up. Living with him, she had come to learn that Khan was sometimes just as pestersome as a roommate as Emily had been. Only, Khan was more cryptic because he expected Joni to piece everything together almost as fast as he did—he told her that once.

Khan had such high expectations of her, which made absolutely no sense.

* * *

—CONTINUED

_Logic dictates the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one. Logic dictates that I stop Khan from taking his vengeance on Admiral Marcus and Starfleet to prevent loss of life. The circumstances dictate that the best way to stop him is to forcefully imprison him or take his life. Logic then dictates that I will fail to do either because he is superior. Stronger. Faster. Not afraid to kill. I have never killed before. (Only in my nightmares.)_

_My emotions dictate that I do not want to capture or kill Khan. My emotions dictate that despite logic, and despite Khan's villainy…_

_Khan Noonien Singh is my friend._

* * *

**EssentiallyRei's AN**: First I would like to apologize to the Klingon community if I used your language incorrectly or in the wrong context. I unfortunately do not speak Klingon, but I had fun using BING's English to Klingon translator.

I would also like to let our readers know that this first chapter is inspired by some of the events that are explained in the IDW comic book "Star Trek: Khan".

So times three hope you liked this first chapter of our sequel to "Out of This World"! And if you did, please review because every bit of your words and support inspire Lady Dawson and myself to keep writing. Yay for Falling Into Darkness!


	2. As Stars Go By

**Falling Into Darkness**

by Lady Dawson and EssentiallyRei

Chapter Two: As Stars Go By

Her entire sight had turned completely red.

Or at least, that's how it felt, Emily Conner considered as she regarded her surroundings of the foreign planet Nirabu. Every inch of the place—from the trees to the grass to the ground itself—was a harsh violent shade of red which, in addition to the harsh smell of flames and ash and gods know what else that was coming from the volcano in the distance, was not the most pleasurable of sights.

Wrinkling her nose again, Emily really wished she could take off the grey hooded disguise that kept most of her face covered. Since the species on this planet had barely gotten around to inventing the wheel, let alone spacecraft, they'd had to conceal their "alien" appearance, but with the volcanic ash in the air, the disguise made it hard to breathe.

Not for the first time, she glanced in the direction of the temple, pacing back and forth across the red grass before she glanced sideways at her companion, the alien horse called Niborilla that was their getaway.

"He's gonna wait until I can't breathe in this thing, then show up with the entire race of those clay dudes chasing him through the forest, isn't he?" Though she was joking, Emily knew that James T. Kirk was more than likely to do just that—probably with the clay dudes throwing spears at him, if past experience proved anything.

Except that their real name wasn't "clay dudes"; Spock had reminded her three times that they were called Nibirans. But really, they looked like they were made out of clay.

Of course, the only thing commenting that to _Spock_ accomplished was the Vulcan First Officer fixing her with a cold stare that said all too clearly that she was being completely illogical before telling her that, "According to several old Earth tales, your ancestors were, in fact, made out of clay before they were put on the Earth."

Upon which Emily had forced a smile at him and said, "Yes, Commander," before going back to what she was doing, reserving the title "clay dudes" for those who would appreciate the humor. From the look that Spock had giving her, however, Emily suspected that someone had been saying it around him and he knew all too well who had coined the term.

Emily had managed to keep a straight face around him so far, but as soon as his back was turned, she had a hard time fighting back a grin.

Hearing noises through the forest, Emily straightened from where she'd been leaning against the red tree, scanning the surrounding area for any sign of where the noise had come from just as the Niborilla reared up unexpectedly, snarling at something out of her line of sight, followed by a familiar yell.

"Jim, no!"

Before the words had even left her mouth, Emily heard the unmistakable sound of phaser fire and the Niborilla fell to its side—not dead, just stunned, but it would be awhile before it woke up, meaning that they had to come up with a new way back to the Enterprise.

Yanking her hood off, Emily glared at the hooded figure that had just stunned their getaway, her hands on her hips.

"Dammit, Jim!" she complained. "Did you forget that was our ride?"

The new arrival pushed his hood back, revealing the handsome face of Captain James T. Kirk, who looked exasperated as his bright blue eyes met the green ones of his Chief Tactical Officer.

"Oh, great," he grumbled before looking over his shoulder as more yelling came from behind him and instantly, he bolted past Emily, grabbing her hand as he ran. Emily only had a quick look behind her to see the clay dudes running after them, throwing spears and arrows anything they could get their hands on as they chased down the two imposters.

Emily glanced sideways at Jim as they dashed through the forest, keeping her hand firmly latched in his.

"So," she said conversationally, like they were sitting in the cafeteria, eating dinner, and having a light conversation, "what did you take?"

Jim shrugged, glancing down at the scroll he had in his opposite hand. "No idea," he admitted, "but they were bowing to it!" He was digging his communicator out while managing to keep one hand on the scroll and the other on Emily's wrist—quite a feat, Emily thought. "Kirk to Shuttle One! Natives are out of the kill zone! You are clear! Spock, get in there, neutralize the volcano, and let's get out of here!"

Glancing briefly over her shoulder, Emily pushed Jim out of the way just as an arrow was shut directly towards their hands and probably would've pierced the captain had she not shoved him out of the way.

"You know, if you hadn't stunned our ride, then we probably wouldn't be running through the forest right now," she commented, but other than a dirty look, Jim didn't answer her, too busy talking to Spock over the comm.

She couldn't hear the Vulcan, but she had no doubt that he was reminding the captain about the Prime Directive—with probably cause, she thought with mirth. Jim had a habit of toeing the line of it more than he should.

"I know what it says!" Jim yelled into the communicator, pretty much confirming what Emily had thought about what Spock was saying, "which is why I'm running through the jungle, wearing a disguise! Now drop off your super ice cube and let's go! Kirk out!" He snapped his comm. closed, shooting a wry grin at Emily. "Still glad you came?"

She laughed at him. "Hey, you were all ready to bring Leonard out here and we both know how much he hates missions like this," she reminded him. "Right about now, he'd probably be yelling how much he hates this!"

Jim laughed too, though it was winded from how fast they were running. "You forgot he'd be obviously yelling that they're trying to kill us," he pointed out.

"That, too."

"Duck," Jim added and she obeyed, ducking her head just in time to avoid a spear aimed at her head.

"These guys don't give up, you have to give them credit for that," Emily observed. They were just barely managing to escape the pack, but they were still hot on their tails and showing no sign of giving up anytime soon. "How soon is Sulu, Uhura, and Spock going to be down here to pick us up?"

Unfortunately, as soon as she asked that, Jim's comm. beeped and he snatched it up again. Emily strained to hear what Sulu was saying, but all she made out was, "—going to have to make it to the Enterprise on your own!"

"Wonderful!" Jim sighed and maneuvered direction, never releasing Emily's hand which, despite there was an entire race of people trying to kill them at the moment, she had to appreciate having some alone time with her boyfriend. They rarely got to have moments where they could just hold hands without being concerned about anyone watching. "Ready?"

"Like we have a choice!" Emily hurled at him.

Jim grinned at her and they made a dash towards the edge of the forest, pausing only briefly to hang the scroll that he'd taken.

Glancing over her shoulder, Emily saw that many of the natives had stopped their pursuit and had fallen to their knees in prayer, bowing before the scroll, not caring about the imposters now that their scroll had been returned. Unfortunately, that didn't hold true for all of them, she thought as several of them continued running after them.

Hand entwined with Jim's, Emily leaped off the edge of the cliff as her feet touched the edge, diving into the waters below.

Freeing herself from the unwanted robe, Emily followed the shadowy outline of Jim as they swam for the Enterprise, parked on the ocean floor.

Her heart glowed at the sight of the starship that, a year ago, had been completely foreign to her. It was a marvel what a difference a year made; she never would have thought that she'd been working on a starship, exploring the galaxy—the idea, the _concept_, was completely inexplicable to her. She hadn't even known that something like this _could_ have existed, outside of science fiction.

That was before she and her best friend—Spock's twin sister—Joni Bennett had been transported from their world to Star Trek. In the beginning, Emily had assumed that it was just some bizarre dream, but the more she was here, the more she realized that all of this was real and somehow, she'd been transported from what she referred to now as the Other World. And as far as anyone knew, they were here for good.

The only downside was Joni wasn't on the Enterprise; she'd been transferred away after the Narada incident last year, under the reasoning that the Enterprise had Montgomery Scott as her Chief Engineer, there was no need for another genius engineer. So Joni was forced to leave and Emily felt the absence of her friend every day. Joni was the only person who understood what it was like to come from another universe entirely.

Jim tried, but he couldn't really get it the way Joni could.

Swimming for the Enterprise, swimming _home_, Emily yanked off her goggles and inhales once they were safely inside and the water had been released from the tank. She grinned at her boyfriend, who had pulled his off too. "You know, if you wanted to get me into a skin-tight outfit, all you had to do was ask."

Bright blue eyes amused, Jim returned, "I'll show you what you can—"

Just as he was leaning closer, about to kiss her, the tank opened to reveal Montgomery Scott—a very unhappy Montgomery Scott, Emily thought as Jim yanked his head back.

Scotty was scowling at the two of them, dripping wet in their dive suits, barely having gotten their breath back as he exclaimed, "Do you have any idea how ridiculous it is to hide a starship on the bottom of the ocean? We've been down here since last night! The salt waters gonna ruin the—"

"Scotty!" Jim interrupted, looking slightly flushed at having nearly been caught, though only Emily caught it. "Where's Spock?"

Softening intensely, Scotty looked at him sheepishly. "Still in the volcano, sir," he answered at once.

Jim's gaze hardened and, without another word to either of them, he dashed past Scotty still in his dive suit, making a run for the lifts. Emily glanced sideways at the Chief Engineer before they both hurried after the captain as he made his way for the Bridge with Emily and Scotty in his wake.

Pavel Chekov looked around at them as soon as they had stepped into the pristine white glow of the Bridge. "Keptin on the Bridge!"

Unlike normally, when everybody snapped to attention as soon as Jim was in view, everybody was already on edge, their attention at its peak, Emily noted, though it wasn't hard to figure out why, with the First Officer still in a fiery volcano.

"Lieutenant," Jim barked at Uhura, who was in her own red dive suit, though considerably drier than either her or the captain, "do we have an open channel on Mr. Spock?"

"The heat's frying his comm., but we still have contact," Uhura reported. Emily could hear the tremble in her voice and laid a kind hand on her forearm, to which the Communications Officer glanced up at her.

"He'll be all right," she whispered softly, kindly. "Jim'll make sure that he gets back to the ship safely."

Her lower lip trembled slightly and Uhura nodded quickly, though the relief was evident in her dark eyes as she gave Emily a trembling smile that was filled with gratitude. A year ago, Uhura couldn't stand Emily any more than she had Jim, due to a prank Star Trek Emily had caused upon their meeting, but since then, the two women had formed a bond through their mutual understanding of having a relationship with their commanding officer—though with Uhura, it was not nearly as forbidden as Emily's was. Spock was only the First Officer; though a senior commanding officer, he was not the captain.

_ "I have activated the device, Captain. When the countdown is complete, the device should render the volcano inert."_

Upon hearing Spock's voice break through the comm., Emily returned her attention back to the situation at hand, worry running through her, though she didn't dare share that with Uhura. Getting Spock out of the volcano would be very difficult—especially since they didn't have use of the transporters, which was why they didn't beam down into the volcano to begin with.

"I need to beam Spock back to the ship!" Jim demanded, looking between Sulu and Chekov. "Give me one way to do it!"

Emily glanced towards her "little brother"; Pavel had grown up in the past year, no longer the innocent little kid that she'd first met when she came here, but instead a brilliant young man who was more than capable of holding his own. If there was anyone who could figure out a way to get Spock back here, she thought without a flicker of doubt, it would be Pavel.

And sure enough, with his face flushing with earnest, Pavel suggested, "Maybe if we had a direct line of sight . . ."

"Hang on, man!" Scotty protested, holding up his hands in objection, his eyes wide in disbelief. "You're talking about an _active_ volcano! Sir," he added, looking at Jim, "if that thing erupts, I cannot guarantee we can withstand the heat!"

"I don't know if we can maintain that kind of altitude," Sulu offered his suggestion.

Jim looked frustrated as he glanced over at Emily, desperate for some kind of help, but she shook her head at him; they both had valid points. And there was another one . . .

_ "The shuttle was concealed by the ash cloud, but the Enterprise is too large,"_ Spock pointed out, listening to their arguments through the comm. _"If utilized in a rescue effort, it would be revealed to the indigenous species." _

"Spock," Jim said despairingly as Emily came to stand next to him, close enough for emotional support but not intimately, "nobody knows the rules better than you, but there has _got_ to be an exception . . ."

_ "None,"_ Spock said firmly, leaving no room for argument. _"Such action would violate the Prime Directive."_

Ugh, Emily hated it when he said stuff like that, especially during situations like this; there was nothing that Spock loved better than the rules, if in fact the Vulcan would admit to feeling one way or the other about it.

"Dammit, Spock, we're trying to save your life here!" she snapped at him. "Stop being so damn self-sacrificing!"

_ "Lieutenant, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few." _

"Spock, we're talking about your _life_!" Jim yelled at him, the desperation lacing through his tone, bright blue eyes seemingly even brighter in the glow of the blue waters outside of the viewport.

But this time, Emily felt her heart clench in fear as Spock's voice faltered and static came through. All she could hear through the static was, _"The rules . . . broken . . ."_ And then everything went quiet over the comm.

"Spock! Spock!" Jim shouted through it, but nothing came through. He turned to Uhura, whose hand was clamped over her mouth. "Try to get him back online."

Emily had never seen anyone move as fast as Nyota Uhura at that moment; she all but flew to her station, her hands flying over the control panel to try and reestablish contact with the First Officer—all the while, the seconds to the detonator were ticking down and with every second that passed, that one was less that they could rescue Spock in.

Jim looked at her, the uncertainty in his eyes. "If Spock were here and I were there," he whispered, so quietly that nobody else could hear, "what would he do?"

Emily bit her lip as she looked helplessly at her boyfriend, knowing the answer but not wanting to utter the words. She knew what Spock would do, even though it made her want to throttle the Vulcan until she knocked some sense into that thick skull of his.

But it was not her, but Leonard McCoy, standing on Jim's other side, who spoke the words Emily couldn't—wouldn't—say.

"He'd let you die."

She closed her eyes, looking away from Jim, knowing that they were true; if their roles were reversed, and it fell to Spock to save Jim, she wasn't sure if they'd even be discussing trying to get Jim back on board.

No—she knew they wouldn't be discussing it, just as surely as Spock was refusing to hear them now.

If only Joni were here, she wistfully thought, she would've been able to convince her brother that his own life was worth saving. But Joni wasn't here and there was no one here—not even Uhura, not that Emily would ever say that to her—that could convince the stubborn Vulcan that his life was worth preserving.

Looking back at Jim, Emily knew what he was going to do, even before he gave the order to Sulu to take the Enterprise into the air—knowing that the Nibirians were still out there, still trying to find the defilers of their sacred temple who had stolen their scroll. She knew him too well by now; he would leave no man behind.

As the Enterprise flew towards the volcano, making its way over the fiery ash cloud emitting from it, Jim looked at Emily. "Take the conn," he ordered. She nodded as he dashed away just as Spock was being beamed on board.

* * *

Flipping through her PADD, Emily glanced over some of the older messages that she hadn't had a chance to look at yet. Most of them were from Starfleet, but there were a couple from her older brothers—she would wait until later to read those; she was in a pretty good mood right now and didn't want it ruined—and one from Joni.

She tapped her finger against it, bringing up the letter, which was just as brief as the ones before it had been.

_To Emily Conner, _

_Yet again, Emily, I must keep this brief. _

_My work has been keeping me busy and I find that I lose track of time too often. Days have turned into weeks. Weeks into months. But do not worry, my friend; this lost time is spent productively. Thus far, I am satisfied with my accomplishments. I wish I could share these accomplishments with you, but for now, my work remains classified. _

_With all my hard work, a promotion may be coming my way. Not one that will get me any extra time off or shore leave, but who knows. I will duly inform you if they give me any kind of leeway on such matters. _

_In what spare time I have, I've been following any unclassified data on the Enterprise's adventures that I can. It seems our friend Jim has been keeping his crew very busy indeed. It intrigues me that most of Jim's missions have become a bit of controversy with the "higher-ups." Fortunate that he has such a capable Chief Tactical Officer to keep his head on his shoulders, because I fear without you he would not. _

_Please inform my brother that I have received his communications in regards to our mother. It is regrettable news. _

_Stay vigilant, my friend. _

_Your friend, _

_Joan_

Clicking her tongue as she read through it again, Emily tried to push down the uneasy feeling that went through her gut; it was the same one she had every time she read any of her friend's letters. She just couldn't shake the feeling that there was something wrong; Joni's letters just felt wrong.

But when she'd brought these concerns up with Jim and her uncle Chris Pike, they had both double checked with Admiral Marcus and assured her that Joni was well, but her work was indeed very classified, which was why she couldn't discuss it.

No matter what they said, though, she still couldn't shake the feeling that—

"Oh!"

So distracted was Emily that, as she rounded the corner, she collided with Uhura, who had been going in the opposite direction and hadn't been looking where she was going either.

"Uhura! Sorry . . ." she apologized at once as she scrambled to her feet, offering a hand to help the Communications Officer up. "I wasn't watching where I was . . . going . . ." Emily trailed off as she got a good look at Uhura's expression, realizing at once that something was wrong; her eyes looked red. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Uhura said quickly, shaking her head. "It's all right, Emily—I wasn't watching where I was going either . . ."

Noting where she had just come from—in the direction of Spock's quarters—Emily regarded Uhura. She definitely looked like she had been crying and it was that that made up her mind.

"You know, I was just about to have a cup of tea in my room," she said, laying a hand on the taller woman's arm. "Would you care to join me?"

It took some convincing, but eventually, Emily talked Uhura into coming with her to her quarters, where she replicated two cups of tea. She would've preferred coffee, but the replicators made such terrible coffee that Emily preferred to have the tea that it made; at least it somewhat resembled tea.

Setting the steaming mug in front of Uhura, Emily took the seat across from her. "So what happened?" she asked with infinite kindness.

The Communications Officer's shoulders sagged as she stared down at her mug miserably. "Spock and I . . . we had a fight."

Emily nodded; she had expected as much, after that afternoon. She had seen the way that Uhura had flung her earpiece onto her station after making sure Spock was on board; it was all too clear that she was upset with the Vulcan.

"I don't understand him sometimes," Uhura admitted, looking thoroughly depressed. "It was like he knew that he was going to die—he was prepared for it—and he didn't even give one thought as to what I was going through there or even what it would do to me if he had died. He didn't even _care_ what it would do to me if he'd died. All he did was just sit there so stoically and . . ." She gave a frustrated noise. "And he didn't even really fight with me; he just sat there and let me yell and scream at him . . . if he had even just tried to reason with me, but he wouldn't even do that . . . just told me that it was the only logical way."

"To him, maybe so," Emily said grimly. Uhura looked like she was about ready to explode. "Nyota, I am on your side, okay? Spock is my friend, even if he won't admit that he's friends with anybody. I care about him too and I'm just as annoyed with him about his whole 'ready to throw myself into a volcano' escapade as you are. And I know Jim is too," she added as an afterthought. "I just think that . . . Spock loves logic, we know that; he loves the rules and reasoning and . . . and he's been through a lot this past year," she mused, "especially with Joni being gone. But he loves you; I know that and deep down, I know you know that. Spock just . . . shows his feelings differently than we do."

The Communications Officer sighed. "I know . . . it just frustrates me sometimes."

"I can't blame you for that one," Emily acknowledged. "I honestly don't know how you do it. If it were me, I'd have yanked the eyebrows off his brow by now."

Uhura managed a weak laugh. "He can be sweet sometimes, you know . . . even though it's probably not intentional, he does things sometimes that make me wonder if his human side shows more than he thinks it does."

"Oh, I know that," Emily said with a wry grin. "I know full well that I never want to be on the receiving end of his temper."

Looking puzzled, Uhura looked like she was about to ask, then obviously remembered about the incident last year when the captain had been on the receiving end of Spock's temper, and she laughed again before she was quiet again.

"He loves you, Nyota," Emily said reassuringly. "I have no doubt of that. You shouldn't either. I think maybe Spock's problem is that instead of feeling too little, he feels too much." And perhaps doesn't want to feel too much, she added in her head, not sharing this particular thought with Uhura, but she seemed to guess anyway as she nodded slowly at Emily, sipping her tea.

"If only he would show it," she said quietly.

Emily nodded once and the two women watched the stars go by outside Emily's window in silence.

AN: Hey, guys! Hope you enjoyed the new chapter! We've got all sorts of ideas for the new stories! And we appreciate those of you who reviewed on the last chapter and hope you do so for the new one!

Lady Dawson


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